the great unwind

i wake up at 11 am and its straight to the office. do not pass go. do not collect $200. i sit in front of my computer and i compose eloquent promises i genuinely intend to keep. i mediate between parties. i reply and forward emails. i ignore calls and i text people. i put my head in my hands and sigh, then look up at the ceiling, at the cracked paint and the light fixture, hoping it reveals something to me i havent seen before. it never does. its always the same.

then, after the morning has faded into the afternoon, and the afternoon has sunk into early evening, i head to the bar. i prep my fruit and put pourers on all my bottles. i arrange my juices (standards in the front, uncommon mixers towards the back) and make sure we are all stocked on bottled beers and wine. at 5 we open for happy hour, i make sure the book im reading (Baldwin, Another Country) is at the end of the bar, just in case its so slow i have to entertain myself. At about 8 i make myself a cocktail. i change it up a lot (yesterday it was a chocolate martini, the day before a brazilian mojito) so as not to get bored. i pretend im friends with everyone, smiling, interested, hanging on every word. i flirt. i make jokes. i try to understand. i do a shot before i holler out last call. my stomach growls violently. i hardly ever eat during my shift.

i get home at the darkest hours. i creep in quietly. for a moment i stare at my girlfriend while she sleeps. (she is always asleep.) the gentle heaving of her body. the soft snoring. the stillness of her. then i go back to the office. i do not pass go. i do not collect $200. i roll myself a spliff. i pour myself a glass of wine or unscrew a beer, then i check my email, sometimes doing a bit of last minute work. i read a few movie reviews, maybe an article or two. i pore over the words written by friends ive never met, faces that perhaps ill never see. i unwind, absorbing it all, my past and my future, every hour in the day. i let the clock strike 5am. then 5.30. i let my head fall back and stare at the ceiling, at the cracks in the paint and the light fixture, hoping it reveals something to me ive never seen before. it never does. its always the same.